


everything i wanted

by eleon



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Enemies to Friends, Fix-It, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jack Manifold Needs A Hug, Jack Manifold Redemption, Jack Manifold-centric, Kinda, Temporary Character Death, Trauma, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Jack Manifold, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, he doesnt appear in this tho hes just the Bad Guy thumbs up :]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleon/pseuds/eleon
Summary: jack manifold is going to walk straight back into hell, and drag tommyinnit out with him.
Relationships: Jack Manifold & Alexis | Quackity, Jack Manifold & Niki | Nihachu, Jack Manifold & Ranboo, Jack Manifold & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 130
Kudos: 808
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from billie eilishs everything i wanted thumbs up
> 
> this is my way of coping woo i dunno how good this is but im pretty sure this is the only fic w this concept so ur gonna have to put up w my writing
> 
> edit: bee_4 also wrote smth abt jack bringing tommy back! its called [revenant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862657) and its so cool check that out too if u want
> 
> tw/cws: nongraphic suicide (jack dies to get to the afterlife so), grief, vomiting, panic attacks, mentioned child abuse/murder, and uh a bit of arguing on the part of other characters. i think thats it but i could be wrong pls tell me if u think i should add anything.

jack manifold had thought he'd feel happy, when tommyinnit died. 

he doesn't. after learning of his death, he feels cold, a sick, empty feeling growing in his stomach—and his head hurts, and his eyes burn, and his legs shake, and— 

quietly, he excuses himself from tubbo and ranboo's company, and collapses to the ground.

what was it sam had said? he was beat to death? what an awful way to go out.

jack had wanted to be the one to kill him; he'd thought that, too. any method of his would have been kinder, that's for sure.

he'd wanted to be the one to kill tommy. now, he just hugs himself tight as he throws up.

though he doesn't feel happy, he doesn't feel sad, not really. just sick. disgusted.

a gentle hand is rubbing his back, and soft words that mean nothing to him filter into his ears.

he really, truly, isn't sad, but he still chokes on vomit and tears as tubbo and ranboo sit beside him. he's not sad, and it isn't fair; they were likely closer to tommy than he ever was, but here they are, doing their best to comfort him.

once he's calmed—or, not calmed, just become too exhausted to sob any longer, too empty to throw anything else up—they help him up, and guide him to snowchester. there, they clean him of his own, gross vomit, and let him take tubbo's bed.

"i want to kill him," is the first thing he says, half-delirious. tommy's _dead_ ; really, truly gone—there's nothing left for him to kill, even if he wants to (and he's not so sure he does, anymore).

"me, too," is all tubbo says, blankly.

"you're not alone on that one," ranboo says, fists clenched and tone carefully controlled.

it occurs to him they think he means dream. he doesn't correct them.

he dreams of nukes, and lava, and 16-year-old children dying in prisons all alone.

* * *

the next morning isn't any kinder, and he wakes up feeling like shit. the smell of food leads him out of bed, and he finds tubbo half-asleep at the table, ranboo making eggs, or pancakes, or—or, something.

jack can't find it in himself to care what. his mouth tastes like ash and vomit, and he doesn't think he'd be able to stomach anything yet.

tubbo acts too normal; ranboo too quiet. jack feels too empty.

* * *

life is harder, without tommyinnit. not because jack misses him, but because it means he no longer has a purpose; because all his friends are suffering, and grief isn’t so easy to deal with as he thought.

tubbo throws himself into hotelwork; ranboo is quiet, and follows tubbo around with a concerned gaze, a grass block almost always in hand

“i’m worried for tubbo,” he tells jack, when tubbo is off collecting materials, and they’re alone. “i think he’s repressing his emotions, and i don’t know what to do. i can’t cry often, because of the whole half-enderman thing, but he deserves to.”

jack can’t help but think it would have been better if he had been the one to kill tommy. back then, he had thought he would be able to keep tubbo together. now, he feels like the one falling apart, and tubbo won’t even let himself cry.

puffy is devastated at tommy’s death, and has sworn revenge on anyone who disrespects him; and foolish—who had never had any good experiences with tommy—has built him a statue above his house. quackity is missing. 

one day, he finds niki sitting at the edge of l’manhole, legs swinging idly.

“he’s dead,” she says as he takes a seat next to her.

“i know.”

she turns to him with a soft smile that almost appears genuine. a light breeze ghosts through her hair. “that’s good, isn’t it? even if we weren’t the one to kill him, he finally learned his lesson…”

“yeah.” 

they don’t say anything more as they sit over the remains of l'manberg. jack feels dizzy as he looks down from their great height. the hole reaches bedrock.

* * *

jack doesn’t know how he feels about tommy’s death. he can look at puffy and sam and say that they’re sad, mourning; he can look at antfrost and bad and say they’re happy, one less obstacle in the way of egg. niki says she’s relieved, like a weight has been lifted off her, and he almost believes it.

he tells himself he doesn’t feel anything, really, and he can almost believe that, too.

but he doesn’t know.

* * *

life is impossible, without tommyinnit. not because jack misses him, but because he’s like a third wheel in tubbo and ranboo’s company; because one won't even admit that his best friend is dead, and the other blames everyone including himself for tommy's death.

ranboo loses it, one time, shouting at sam about how he should've never left tommy in that cell with _him_ , doesn't he know all the horrible things he did to him in exile, he _abused_ and _manipulated_ him, and—and— 

tubbo is sobbing on the ground, hands over his ears and begging ranboo to stop. and ranboo turns to him, and shouts, "you never even visited him!" and now they're arguing with each other, voices climbing and climbing in volume as they lose more and more control, and—

jack feels sick, and he slips away from their hotel, and across the street to his.

they’re all just broken kids—little, war-torn things that never learned to deal with shit properly. they haven’t even walked this earth for 20 years.

tommy was only 16. he's not sure how he never noticed that.

(he did. he just chose to ignore it.)

"WHAT WERE THEY FIGHTING ABOUT, JACK MANIFOLD?" sam nook asks.

"nothing you need to know, big man," jack mutters, pushing past the npc. "don't worry about it."

he climbs up to his room and collapses on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

this isn't his hotel, this isn't his life; this is tommy's, and running it is harder than he thought it'd be.

he doesn't miss tommy, and he isn't sad about his death. but he can't help but think that things would be better if he was still around.

* * *

the next morning, he climbs up onto the roof of the big innit hotel. it's raining, and isn't that so melodramatic? he's done this before; it was no biggie.

peering off the edge of the hotel, he gulps. poor, innocent sam nook is idle, a small dot at the entrance of the hotel.

it's no biggie, but perhaps this isn't a far enough fall. he takes out his trident with a shaking arm, and flies to the edge of l'manhole. he looks down, and takes a deep breath.

all the way down to bedrock, right?

* * *

_jackmanifoldtv fell from a high place._

* * *

_jackmanifoldtv fell from a high place._

* * *

_jackmanifoldtv fell out of this world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tweeted smth joking abt how jack could just go into the afterlife & bring tommy back but im actually just so sad it stopped being a joke
> 
> the next chapter will be up in like a few hours max, or after the tftsmp stream bc i think that might happen today ?
> 
> pls uh leave a kudos or possibly even a comment abt what u thought bc even if i didnt execute it perfectly i think this is a rly fascinating concept if not thats alright


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW U GUYS R EXCITED FOR AN UPDATE HERE U GO IT WPULDVE BEEN OUT LIKE HALF AN HOUR AGO BUT MY INTERNET CUT OUT FOR A BIT
> 
> tw/cws: mentioned child abuse/murder and mmmmm lots of crying thumbs up. i dunno pls lmk if im missing anything im kinda rushing ahdjfksk
> 
> (also if any mexican ppl have a problem w how i wrote mexican dream pls lmk i tried to just copy his characterization but im aware its offensive to imitate him if ur not mexican so pls tell me if theres any issue w that)

when he had come back the first time, they—they meaning tubbo, meaning quackity, and not much else—had asked how, as of course was the logical thing to do when they knew he had lost his last life to technoblade. he told them he crawled out of hell out of sheer force of will, though that was a bit of an exaggeration. to say he had taken one look at schlatt drunk off his ass, felt the determination burning through him, and decided to leave—that sounds nowhere near as cool.

the afterlife looks nothing like hell. it's a reflection of the beforelife, and it's not. the place he opens his eyes to is a caricature of the spawn point, and it isn't. the afterlife is big, and bright, and it feels like he can never really see anything at all.

it's beyond comprehension. it's been here forever, but before them—wilbur, schlatt, mexican dream; tommy, now—it hadn't existed.

"'ey, man," a voice says behind him, and he turns to see mexican dream standing there, picking at his teeth. "didn't expect to see you around these parts again for a while."

"yeah, well. me either. plans change."

"i get that, man. one moment you're alive, and the next, you're dead and in the afterlife and your girlfriend is nowhere to be found. shit's fucked up. what brings you here, man? takin’ a vacation?"

jack looks around. "i just need to find tommy, and then i'm out of here, big man. you wouldn't know where i could find him, would you?"

"the kid?" mexican dream's smile drops a little. "yeah, man, he's with wilbur in pogtopia. here, i'll take you to him."

he starts walking, leaving jack with no choice but to follow. they're on the prime path, going the direction of snowchester. this isn't the way to get to pogtopia in the beforelife, but he knows better than to take that up with someone who's resided in the afterlife longer than him, and likely understands it better.

he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, and it's like it's his first, like he hasn't taken one since he left the first time. the afterlife feels like home.

that scares him. 

"when he first got here, he looked like he had gotten mugged or somethin', i'm tellin’ you," mexican dream continues, and jack shrugs off his unease. "face bruised and shit. he was—real scared, man. dream's done fucked-up things to him."

jack thinks back to ranboo shouting at sam, says, "i heard."

they take a right, and he blinks, and they're at the edge of pogtopia. old pogtopia, the one before it had fallen into disuse, old and grey and nothing but a reminder of a past nobody wanted to be reminded of. mexican dream stops, gestures to it.

"there you go, man. they're somewhere in there."

"thanks," jack says, already walking away. the less time spent in the afterlife, the better.

"hey, hey, man, don't be so quick, man."

jack spins around to face mexican dream, sighs. "what?" he asks. “i don’t have any money for you or anything; it was all lost when i died, and i'm in a bit of a hurry.”

"what are you sayin’, man? no, it’s nothin’ like that. we're—we’re lookin' out for tommy—me and wilbur. that kid, he's been through a lot of shit. we know what you and niki are up to. you hurt him, and i promise you wilbur will find a way to come back to kick your ass, and i'll be right behind him." raising his eyebrows, mexican dream mimes pulling out guns and shooting jack. “alright, man?”

jack sighs again. "look, if i were planning to hurt him, i wouldn't be going to all this trouble to bring him back, would i?" he pauses. "i was wrong to try to kill him."

even if tommy stole one of his canon lives. even if he just stood and watched as he burned to death.

tommy's been through enough. so have all the people who loved him (and they’re the ones jack cares about, mostly).

mexican dream nods. "alright, then, man."

"see you around, big man."

pogtopia looks cheerier than he remembers, even in its height. the colors are brighter, glowing, and flowers dot the grass in more hues than he's ever seen. a wind he can't feel rustles through them. it's beautiful, and it's entrancing, and jack can't wait until he can leave.

he finds them sitting against the cobblestone tower. seeing tommy, leaning into wilbur, smiling as he talks—so alive, alive as one can be, here—it feels like a punch to the gut. jack pauses in his step, taking in the sight of someone who had once been one of his very best friends. 

wilbur notices him first, the ghost of a laugh on his lips fading as his eyes meet jack’s. tommy's brow furrows, and he follows wilbur’s gaze. when he sees jack, his face goes slack, mouth forming an 'o' shape.

a “jack?” can be heard distantly, and tommy is scrabbling for purchase against the grass, getting up and running to him. he stops a few feet in front of jack, expression confused. hurt. scared. 

“jack? wh—why are you here? did you die?”

he looks freer than he has since before—before it all, none of those old scars or dull eyes or dark eye-bags.

“it wasn’t dream, was it? wilbur—wilbur told me he was still—” 

jack surges forward and wraps his arms around tommy. taken aback, tommy cuts off in the middle of his sentence, but slowly reaches up to return the hug.

“i missed you,” jack rasps out, because he did, and anything else would be a lie to say. he still doesn’t know if he felt sad or dissatisfied or—or _what_ about his death, but he missed him. 

tommy melts into him, hugging him tighter. “you better not have died just to see me, big man,” he mumbles.

“what do you take me for, tommyinnit? a fool? no, i’m here to bring you back.”

“you’re _what_?” 

and wilbur is suddenly by tommy’s side, pulling him back, a protective hand on his shoulder. he glares at jack; even after death, a very cynical person. jack supposes he deserves to be, especially when it comes to his little brother, especially knowing what jack had planned to do.

“i’m taking him back, my friend,” he just says lightly. “bringing him back to life, you could say. all that jazz.”

“you can’t do that,” wilbur says, at the same time tommy says, “you can do that?!”

wilbur scowls at tommy. tommy just makes a face back.

“i’ve done it before.” jack shrugs. “can’t be that hard.”

“can’t be that—do you even have a _plan_?”

“yeah. go into the afterlife. get tommy. leave. everyone’s happy.”

throwing his hands up, wilbur paces around. a shadow falls on the area around him, almost as if in response to his distress. when jack looks up, the sky is cloudless. 

the afterlife is a strange, strange place.

“you can’t just—just because you did before doesn’t mean you can do it again. how do you know you can even take tommy with you, if you manage to—to bring yourself back?”

jack rolls his eyes. he’s an impatient man, and was hoping to already be back in the beforelife by now; who knows how much time will have passed once they get there? 

the longer he stays, the stronger the pull gets.

“that kinda doubt will get you nowhere in life—death—man. i’m just gonna do it; doesn’t matter whether or not i _can_.” 

“alright, alright, let’s assume you can—” wilbur cuts himself off, turning to face tommy. “tommy, do you want to go back?”

jack’s heart drops through the ground.

he has to, doesn’t he?

he hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t as a possibility, to be honest.

tommy gapes as they both stare at him expectantly. “i—i don’t know. i wasn’t… very happy, when i was alive, but things were getting better, before dream…” he looks to jack, a vulnerable expression on his face. “how are they doing, without me?”

“how are _they_ doing? tommy, i went through all this effort to bring you back; what do you _think_?”

shifting, tommy averts his eyes. “yeah, but, i mean—quackity, and—and sam nook, and… how is tubbo? he was the only one who… he has ranboo. he doesn’t need me.” 

“prime, you can’t actually think, can you? everyone’s _devastated_ , especially sam and puffy; quackity, too. tubbo—tubbo just pretends that you’re still in the prison and haven’t died; he thinks it should have been him. and—and… ranboo and him wanted you to be their flower girl for their wedding. are you really gonna stay here and miss it?”

“they’re… they’re getting married?” tommy says, and when he does his voice is rough and broken. he glances to wilbur, reaching out to grab the edge of his coat sleeve. 

“wilbur… wilbur, i don’t want to miss tubbo’s _marriage_. i still… it’s not _fair_ ; don’t i deserve to live, too?”

“doesn’t matter if you deserve it if you come with me,” jack points out, “’cause then you just will, regardless.”

wilbur glares at him again. jack doesn’t think he likes him very much.

“but i think you do, i guess,” he amends, raising his hands in surrender at wilbur. “it’s hard without you.”

“tommy… you deserve so much.” wilbur brushes tommy's hair out of his face. “life is just a bitch sometimes, and you were dealt a bad hand. if you don’t think you could stand never seeing your friends again, i think you should go back, if you can. i’ll be fine here without you for a while. but if you think you can be happy here… it’s up to you, toms. what do you want?”

tommy bites his lip, looking between them. “i think…” voice breaking, he buries himself in wilbur’s shoulder. “wilbur, i don’t want you to leave me again. can’t you come with us? i want to go, but not without you. please, come with us?”

wilbur wraps tommy in a one-armed hug. his gaze is a little empty as he stares past jack. “oh, tommy… my chapter of the story is over.”

“i wouldn’t want to bring you back, anyway. this isn’t a free-for-all; i’m bringing tommy back, no one else.”

“oh my prime, do you ever fucking shut up, jack manifold? go away, shoo, give me a minute to say goodbye.”

they move a few steps away, and jack gives them a few more, sitting against a tree not too far away. unable to hear what they’re saying, he watches them talk. when they’re done, tommy throws himself at wilbur, catching him in a hug. wilbur hugs him back, pressing a kiss to his hair.

wrinkling his nose, jack averts his eyes, giving them the courtesy of privacy.

a moment later, tommy walks over. wilbur still stands at a distance, watching, waiting.

“let’s go, bitch,” tommy says, wiping his eyes. “...so, uh, how are we supposed to do this?”

standing up, jack brushes his pants off. “you think, you wink, you do a double blink. you close your eyes, and jump.”

tommy gives him a suspicious look. “...really?”

“no. no need to complicate things that are simple. here, give me your hand. ‘don’t slouch.’”

tommy slips his hand into jack’s. his grip is tight. “’kay. what happens next?”

“well… fair warning, this hurt real bad last time for me.”

and he dredges up as much burning hot determination as he can, thinking of tubbo and ranboo and all his mourning friends. something in his chest cracks, and fills, and they’re falling upward.

* * *

respawning hurts like a bitch. more than he remembers it hurting last time. 

he thinks he might scream. it feels like he’s split between the afterlife and the beforelife, the afterlife screaming in outrage that he got away from its clutches again.

“holy fuck, holy shit, jack, are you okay?”

his vision clears a bit, and he can see tommy, hovering over him.

“yeah, yeah, fine,” he groans, lifting a weak hand to wave it dismissively. it just kind of flops uselessly back to the ground instead. “don’t think the universe much liked me cheating death again. it did work, didn’t it?”

“no, yeah, it definitely… did that. we’re at spawn point.” there’s a pause. “got all my limbs, too, points for that.”

another spike of pain shoots through jack, and he screams again. 

“stop screaming, stop screaming, stop screaming, bitch,” is what he hears when the pain fades. “you’re triggering me i’m _triggered_ , stop it stop it are you _okay_ —”

“i am in so much pain, tommyinnit, shut the fuck up. i’ll be fine.”

as if to disprove his point, more pain shoots through him. there’s a ringing in his ears that doesn’t go away, even when the pain does, but he can see better, and feel the dirt he’s laying on. it’s realer than the afterlife, and that grounds him.

“bet i can scream louder than you,” tommy says when he sees jack has stopped screaming. jack has enough clarity this time to turn his head. tommy is sitting next to him, for all his uncaring words, looking like he indeed cares very much.

“probably can,” jack says, voice muffled because of the way his cheek is squished against the ground. “let’s not test that, please.”

tommy scowls at him. “well, stop screaming, then, bitch.”

his head goes fuzzy, and pain lances his limbs. he and tommy stiffen, but he doesn’t scream this time.

“think it’s getting better.”

“well, good. you scream like a girl.”

“and? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i am in so much mental distress right now, don’t fucking question me. i just lost my older brother again, got brought back to life, and it does hurt a little, you know; do you want me to _cry_?”

“you probably cry like a girl,” jack mutters.

“what’s that supposed to mean, jack manifold? are you saying there’s something wrong with crying like a girl? are you _sexist_ , mr. manifold, are you being sexist right now?”

“i hate you— _fuck_ , that hurts—so fucking much.”

“well, good. wouldn’t want to be friends with a sexist, anyway.”

jack doesn’t bother replying, and they lapse into silence. tommy moves a bit away to lean on a tree, waiting for jack to be able to get up.

he’s not a very patient kid—but jack doesn’t think he’s allowed to fault him for that, because he’s not very patient either, and sitting here just waiting is agonizing when he knows he could be going to his friends. 

sighing, tommy lets his head fall back against the bark to stare at the sky. it's getting dark—jack hadn't noticed that before. they were going to have to hurry. they couldn't afford to be here when the mobs start waking up, especially with no materials on them.

seeming to come to the same conclusion, tommy sighs again. “man, how long—”

“hello?”

he cuts himself off, meeting jack’s gaze with his own, surprised look. _tubbo?_ he mouths, and jack shrugs and nods as best he can, hoping to convey his surprise as well.

“hello?” another voice joins in, and isn’t that ranboo? “is anybody there? we heard screaming, and—"

" _jack?!_ " 

and tubbo is tripping into view, falling into jack in his haste. it stings his skin to be jostled, but tubbo is already sobbing—blubbering, meaningless words spilling out of his mouth—and he can't bring himself to complain.

"oh my prime, jack, you _died_ ," ranboo says, not nearly as devastated as tubbo, but shaking, as he sits beside them. "how are you—how are you back?"

"you _died_ ," tubbo repeats, scooping jack into an awkwardly-angled hug. "i thought—i was gonna—i couldn't lose anyone else, please, not after— _jack_ —you came back. how?"

holy fuck, they are going to need so much therapy.

"what, like it's hard?" he says, going for a carefree tone, but it comes out tired-sounding. he _is_ tired, and he slumps against tubbo, too tired to hold himself up. "i've come back before, haven't i?"

ranboo frowns. "yeah, but why—"

this is when tommy finally steps in. and thank prime for it, because jack just wants the whole thing to be over already so he can go to sleep.

"is this a good time, or should i come back to life at a later point?"

jack's head hits the ground very hard as tubbo suddenly drops it. it hurts, and he reaches a hand up to rub at it, wincing—but it hurts for all the normal reasons. the pain of coming back must be fading.

"tommy—jack, you—tommy—what the fuck what the fuck oh my prime what the— _tommy_ —"

tubbo is gone, bowling tommy over with a hug. jack didn't think the boy could sob any harder, but he seems to not even be breathing as he clings to tommy.

ranboo doesn't move, and, in contrast, his breaths are quick, harsh. his gaze flickers from tommy and tubbo to jack, then back and again.

"i—you—" he says, or tries to. "he—is this _real_?"

jack runs his hands along the ground to be sure, and nods. "yeah. don't see why it wouldn't be."

ranboo is gone, then, too, joining tubbo and tommy in their hug pile. "if you make me cry, i'm going to be so upset," jack thinks he hears, but he's already tuning them out. he's not sure he's allowed to see this, and, besides, he's tired.

his eyes flicker shut, and—

tommy tackles him in a hug, starting to drag him over to join them. "come on, big man, you're not going to fall asleep on my revival day, are you?"

"it's my revival day, too, and i want to sleep."

"you literally already came back before, it doesn't count for you."

"just go celebrate with tubbo and ranboo; they're your friends, aren't they? i'm the one who brought you back to life, i 'literally' don't care."

"you're my friend, too, stop being stupid."

what does this stupid motherfucker not understand?

"i was trying to kill you," jack snaps. "me and niki. you took one of my canon lives, and you didn't care, and i was so angry—i tried to kill you. i was wrong to, but i still fucking did it. so, leave me alone, maybe, because we're not friends."

tommy is staring at him, silent, and maybe he hates him now—good. he should. jack doesn't like him either.

"you're so stupid, jack manifold. you brought me back to life—you'd have to be the dumbest bitch alive to not think that's more than enough for an apology. i'll forgive you for trying to kill me if you forgive me for killing you."

tears bead in his eyes. he wipes at them angrily, looking away. "whatever. i still don't like you, tommyinnit."

tommy grins at him. "don't you know most people find me annoying before getting to know me?"

and he pulls jack into a hug, and—

jack might not have been sad when tommyinnit was dead, but he's a hell lot happier right now than he would be if he had stayed that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frisk undertale could never
> 
> if u guys dont like this ill cry /hj i got it out quick just 4 u
> 
> also if anybody wants to write smth based off/inspired by this, go ahead i dont mind !!!!
> 
> pls like subscribe share uhhhh yea. all that jazz. it would be cool if ud check out my other works too but if u dont feel up to doing any of that thats alright. i rly hope u guys liked it and that i lived up to ur expectations<3


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